The Longing
by sierralim91
Summary: Who ever said it was easy? Deep down, there is something inside him. She doesn't give it thought, but the spark has ignited inside her. There it is - the longing.
1. Reckoning

_Normally, I wouldn't start another fic just when I'm focusing on one at the moment, but I couldn't help it. FYI, some parts of the Mal/Natara story aren't aligned with what's happening in the game. Just a heads-up: I won't be able to update incredibly frequently, as you will note from this chapter that I write long chapters. So bear with me, if you want to read on. :)_

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><p><strong>ONE<strong>

**Reckoning**

_I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name like a fool at the top of my lungs  
>Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright but it's never enough<em>

He felt defeated sometimes. He really did. No matter what he did, no matter where he went, somehow, somewhere, there would be a time when his mind would reel back to the events of his life when he knew what mattered most, was lost. Again and again, he would be confronted with chances to grasp the opportunities presented to him, but always, he failed to leap at them. It's as though he would come up short. Was he really a failure? There were days when he thought he was almost as bad as his dad. Oh, never as bad, or worse, but… he was close. At least, he felt he was, sometimes.

Hero. Detective. Justice.

Those words have been heard by him more than he has heard the word "love" in his life. Often, succeeding in cases would mean that he would be happy, but he knew that the happiness that stemmed from jailing up criminals was temporary. People called him hero, for solving top-notch cases. _The maskmaker. The connoisseur. The hunter. Zero. _It was brilliant, really, it was. He was gaining quite a reputation. He fought for justice, and he got it. The citizens of San Francisco were definitely grateful to him and the police force for it. But he didn't do any of them alone.

Before those cases, he was… well, he was a detective, and he was a good one. Who said he ever wasn't? But he was just _a detective_… like any other. He was also hugely messed up. It wasn't to say that he was doing any much better now, but he had recovered from a lot of things that were once burdens he had been carrying for ages. A lot of what he had let go was because of the one person who was with him almost 24/7 solving cases.

Before her, he knew he was almost just living life and doing work like a robot. He was trying so hard to be someone his dad wasn't, he was playing away a lot of his cards. There was the divorce from Sandra, which hit him harder than he thought it would. He was spending most of his time at pubs, drinking alone, or playing cards with Diego. He would gamble away, not much, as he would win most of the time, but that was what he spent his free days doing. Ken would sometimes drink along with him, and he would at times hang around, seeing if he still had any game with the girls. Those times when he was enduring the remainder of Sandra's break-up from him, was painful. He was spiralling downwards beyond anything he knew. Safe to say, he was becoming more of a lost person than he thought possible.

It's not that she saved him. She didn't. But she gave him the strength to get up, to see that there was more to life than what he thought he was doing. At the start, he really wouldn't have thought anything more of her. Even now, he believed it was wrong for him to step into the more-than-friends zone. It was like what he told that teenage kid, Colt Warren.

_I'm not going to __**ask her out. **__She's my partner._

She was, indeed. What was he asking for, a déjà-vu incident for her? She had been through this whole experience before, with Shawn Mallory. Surely she would be avoiding a repeat situation in having a relationship with someone. Perhaps it was because of that, that he held back. Perhaps it was because he knew what she had gone through. It made him shirk from any possible impulsive actions, it made him steer clear away from any feelings he could have developed for her. But as much as he was trying his best to deny any romantic affection for her, he felt as though he was lying to himself.

_Aw, come on. I saw the way you looked at her! You totally like her!_

Silly kid. A rebellious teen's words shouldn't have such a big impact on him. This teen had absolutely no experience in life, no knowledge of what he was going through – there was no sense in considering the truth of his words.

_Oh really? If that's the case, why are you even thinking about it?_

He frowned and his brow furrowed. He rolled his eyes at himself and gritted his teeth, almost ready to mock-slap his own face. He needed a drink. His mind was going crazy on its own. It had been a long day; having to finish all these reports on the Mad Stranger case had its toll on his body (and mind). It was more than enough that he only had a few hours of sleep before being called back in by Captain Maria Yeong. And the best part was that he was the only one called in – well, it was fair enough that she needed her rest after the whole shock-hostage situation, but it didn't help that she was in all sorts of closeness with that upstart attorney, Oscar Santos. Man, the guy was seriously the most arrogant person he had ever met.

He didn't want to go anywhere, on one hand. He preferred to just sit down, thinking about her, and whether she really meant anything more to him than just a friend or partner…

…

"_Mal!" a voice called._

_He turned around. Natara Williams was running toward him, her beautiful chocolate brown hair flapping in the wind. She had a big bright smile on her face and she was ecstatic about something. He had never seen her so happy before. _

_She ran until she caught up to him, and she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him close. She was wearing a floral sundress, a state of attire that he had never seen her in. She was carrying a straw handbag but she had dropped it to the ground in her haste to greet him._

_Mal Fallon was a handsome man, and many women were taken to him and his dashing looks, what with his sharp features and steely blue eyes. But Mal Fallon wasn't taken to many women. It took a very special and rare person to make him feel like he was melting inside, and only she could do it._

_He wrapped his arms around her back, making her feel strong, safe and secure. He closed his eyes briefly, breathing in the beauty of the moment. It was lovely having her in his arms; if he was honest, it was a feeling like no other. He had absolutely no words of describing it. It was in moments like those that he knew there was no one else who could make him so happy._

_Around them were many shades and colours of green, red and orange. It was autumn, and they were standing in a large park, near a large, shady tree, beside a large lake. There were people walking around – it wasn't crowded, but some families were strolling along the paths beside the lake on the other side of the park, and some kids were trying to sail toy boats on the water. Some other couples were there too, lying on the grass or playing with their dogs._

_A light breeze blew and after the long hug, Mal and Natara pulled back at the exact same time to look at each other. He still held her in his arms, and her arms were still around him, her hands tied together at the back of his neck. He smiled and she knew it was genuine._

"_Now, is there a reason why you're so ridiculously happy today? Please say it's because you're happy to see me," he said to her, teasing._

_She grinned. "I see you almost every day," she said to him, making an amused face. "And I'm always happy to see you."_

_He laughed. "Of course. But that doesn't answer my question."_

"_Well, I've got a surprise for you," she finally let out after a few more seconds of grinning at him. She loved keeping him in suspense, and she liked how cute he looked when he was impatient for an answer._

"_A surprise?" he asked, eyes widening. "Nat, you know how much I hate surprises."_

_She giggled. "No, you don't mind them! Remember the birthday surprise I gave you last time? You loved it, and since then I haven't done anything to surprise you!"_

_He couldn't help but chuckle at her brief outburst of defence. "Okay, okay. What is it? I don't get what this surprise is about though, considering it's not my birthday this time."_

"_Aha. Well, here it is."_

_Natara held up two airplane tickets inside an envelope. Mal took it from her, clearly intrigued, and saw that it was tickets for both of them to Fiji._

"_What's this, Natara?" he asked, unsure. A small smile was creeping up his face._

"_Well, they're plane tickets, of course. To Fiji," she said, as a matter-of-factly._

"_Yes, I know," he said as he playfully slapped her arm. She smartly avoided his slap and danced aside, still smiling at him. "But we can't go anywhere… can we?"_

_Understanding came to him as she finally explained what it was about. "We're finally going on our honeymoon, Mr Fallon," she grinned. "I spoke to Maria yesterday. She agreed that we needed a well-deserved break and we have been granted a whole week of holiday!"_

_Mal's face then broke out into an amused and surprised grin. "Really? Can't believe she would do that though," he said after some thought._

"_Well, she did. Come on, it's been seven months since we got married and we never even went on a honeymoon. I think she finally realised we needed one."_

_Mal smiled even wider now. "So that is why you were so insistent on meeting me for dinner today even though we have work early tomorrow morning… you wanted to tell me in person."_

_Natara looked at him with a sly grin, walking back into his embrace. She didn't have to answer._

"_You know, I really don't know how I ever managed to score a wife as amazing as you."_

"_Well, it wasn't you, really. I decided to lower my expectations."_

"_OH! Thanks a lot."_

"…_and turns out even though I lowered them, you exceeded my original high expectations more than I could have ever thought possible."_

_He looked into her eyes. "Mrs Fallon, you're amazing."_

_She got lost in his dreamy gaze. "You're not so bad yourself."_

"_I love you."_

"_I love you too."_

_And they kissed, one of those out-of-this-world kisses that drove each of them even more madly in love with each other. _

...

When he finally stirred and awoke, blinking his eyes, it was 3:13AM. He was unsure of where he was, having had such a vivid dream. After a few minutes of stretching, his senses stabilised and he realised he was still at the station, in the spare office which he was using to spread out all the files on Mad Stranger so he could write his report.

He stood up and got out of the office. There were still quite a fair number of officers at the station – obviously some would be doing overnight duty, but he guessed some others were finishing paperwork as well.

Walking towards the water cooler, he rubbed the edge of his chin, still trying to get his thoughts straight. The dream he just had kept coming back to him in parts. He almost couldn't remember what he was dreaming about. He gulped back a few mouthfuls of water, and as it sank in, he remembered what he was dreaming about.

Natara. Himself. Together.

He breathed in deeply and let out a small sigh. He really needed to get his head out of the clouds into reality. Otherwise, he was in serious danger having dreams like these.

Just as he was finishing his second glass of water, he felt his mobile let out a little buzz inside the pocket of his trousers.

He took it out and took a quick glance at it, then reread it again.

**You have a new message! Natara: **_**Mal, we need to talk. Got some news for you.**_

He was unsure what to make of it, but all he knew now was that he felt like slamming his head against the wall. He did NOT need the _real _Natara to stir up more problems for him mentally. The fictional-dream Natara already messed up his mind enough.

_What news though? What news does she have for me? What's it about?_

He let out another sigh of exasperation. He hated surprises.

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><p><em>AN: There ya go. Couldn't help adding the Mal/Natara fluff there, although it was added on impulse haha. The focus of this story, as you can probably tell, is more on their relationship and individual thoughts/background, not so much on the crimes they solve. I'll see how it goes but not sure how long this fic will be. Stay tuned for more details. Reviews are welcomed. Thanks for reading!_


	2. Surface

_A/N: Firstly, I hugely, hugely apologise for this late update... I know it's been like 3 months plus since I first published this story. As a disclaimer, I will say now in advance to all readers that I update really slowly! So bear with me if you want to see what happens. Thank you SO much for reading. All your reviews are awesome and thanks to all of you who added this story to your story alerts and favourites. It means a lot. More reviews are always appreciated. Anyway enough of my rambling. Enjoy... and Happy 2012!_

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><p><strong>TWO<strong>

**Surface**

_I can see you there with the city lights  
>Fourteenth floor, pale blue eyes<br>I can breathe you in_

She wasn't sure what she was doing. Maybe, just maybe, she was being stupid. She contemplated every situation, every moment in her life, and other people's lives, so often, that she felt exhausted. She wanted to _stop_ having to think so deeply about everything all the time. It wasn't just the fact that it was her career. It was her being. The person she had become, because of all that childhood difficulty, currently missing father figure... it made her steel herself against everyone who came face to face with her. Whether it was a stranger, a family member or a partner, she would never fail to put on that psychologist hat she so often wished would not be present. Then again, when she thought about it again, she was contradicting herself. If she so greatly wanted that part of her to switch off, it would. That could only mean there was still a part of her, that insecure part of her, which refused to let go. She always had difficulty letting go. Moving on was something she hated doing. Why did there have to be change? So much change? So many things which forced the phrase 'moving forward'? _Forward_? Was that even truth, or a lie?

Regardless, she carried on, being who she was. Or at least, who she thought she was. And whatever else she thought she felt. She kicked away all negative thoughts, let herself reach beyond imaginable heights, and nowadays she felt much freer. She didn't know whether it was all pretence (she'd much rather not delve too deep into herself), but she was certain that she happy where she was. Though there were times that she felt there was just this little thing inside her that made her question specific things in her life, she managed to be secure. Often, she wasn't that worried about most things. She wasn't one to do so. She would act on it, take precautions, and make ready for almost any situation. She was careful, and wise. She knew herself to not give in easily. That enabled her to keep even her emotions in check.

However, who was she to say that she never had a desire to be like any other woman – happily married, with kids and a loving husband? She wanted to have a normal life sometimes, not one of an FBI agent. She hated herself for having those desires sometimes, because that would mean her father was right about the fact that she made all the wrong decisions.

She sat back against her chair, sighing. Her dinner was on the table in front of her – soup with bread. She was barely hungry but she knew she had to eat. She was given the day off to recover, after literally almost dying after being poisoned. She felt she wasn't recovering on those terms, however, as she felt perfectly fine. Physically, that was. On the other hand, mentally, she felt as though someone had punched her right in the gut and she was trying to regain her mental stability.

As the events of the previous day ran through her mind, and she recalled her latest near-death experience, she then remembered how she kissed someone… Oscar Santos. It was not something she would normally have done, but he was there – and in the dim light, after the dark moments of that horrific turn of events, he was almost like her hero. Almost. But it seemed enough for her, as she turned and pressed her lips into his before she drove back home. She tried to recount the reasons why she decided to kiss him just last night – but she couldn't seem to pinpoint any specific trigger that caused her to react in such a manner.

_I needed someone right there and then, and he was there_, she decided. _I was really stricken after the events of the night and just acted impulsively without thinking._

Who was Oscar Santos to her, really? She honestly didn't think that much of him before, but when he kept coming at her and making his advances, she was, admittedly, mildly swept away. He was handsome, really handsome, in that foreign and charming manner. He had a very muscular figure and lovely tanned skin, in a similar shade to hers. He had deep, dark brown eyes and that debonair aura. He looked sturdy, firm yet gentlemanly and kind. He fit the 'tall, dark and handsome' quota perfectly. Of course, if it was just a competition of looks, there were other men around who sometimes caught Natara's attention as well.

One of them, ever so often, would be Mal Fallon. He was handsome, just not in the same way as Oscar. He had a rugged and mysterious outlook to him, but he was indeed attractive, what with his oceanic blue eyes and sharp facial features. Even how his fringe sometimes fell near the front of his eyes was appealing at times. And there was no doubt that he had a strong, manly body. And when he did dress up, particularly during the time when he was going undercover at the charity event with her, he did impress her – she just didn't say it. Though Natara would still choose James Bond over him if there was a real choice and comparison, Mal did come up pretty close.

Of course, what was really oblivious to Natara was the fact that Mal, her partner, actually cared for her beyond a level of professionalism. It was bordering, not just on affectionate, but on passion. Natara would never know that while she was fighting for her life with Oscar by her side, Mal was fighting for her at the same time. She would also never know that Mal uttered four glass-shattering words that spelled out every single emotion that he felt for her –

"_She is worth everything."_

…

"_Well, that was a good day. Baddies locked up, culprits exposed, no injuries on us, early night…" Mal trailed off as he walked out of the precinct towards the car park where his destiny back home to his empty flat awaited him. Or so he thought._

_The sound of footsteps hitting the gravel on the road increased in volume as it neared him, but before Mal could turn around, a voice called his name._

"_Mal! Wait up!" Natara called as she ran after him._

"_Natara!" he exclaimed, after turning around to face her. "Aren't you supposed to be having dinner with that… that guy you're working with for a court case?"_

"_He cancelled on me. More work. Apparently DA's have to work overtime almost every single day at this time of the year," she explained. "But it's okay. Considering it's an early night, I'd like to get some rest anyway."_

_Mal shook his head. "That guy… doesn't he know what he's missing out on, not having a meal with you?" _

_Natara smiled. "Why, am I that nice a person to have a meal with?"_

"_Well of course you are," Mal said. "I get entertained every time, with all your crime-solving wit and childhood stories!"_

_She laughed out loud and looked at him. "Funny, Mal. Anyway, I actually wanted to ask you if I could catch a ride home with you. I need a lift. Is that alright? Oh, unless you have made plans to go somewhere right now, of course."_

"_Why of course I'm not going anywhere, milady – I'm a responsible man, heading home after a day's work," Mal joked. Then, after seeing Natara's mock-serious face, he added, "Okay, I'm serious. I am heading home, and I will give you a lift, so come on."_

_Natara then gave him a small smile of satisfaction in getting a proper answer out of him. He rolled his eyes and grinned back, and together they walked until they reached Mal's squad car. After a short 13 minutes of driving, they reached Natara's apartment block, and Mal parked his car in a spot right in front of the entrance to the lobby._

"_Why are you switching off the engine? You don't have to come down, you know. I can walk up myself," Natara said the moment Mal turned the car key in its slot and removed it._

"_Yes, and you're a grown woman, I know you can," Mal returned. "But it's customary for a gentleman and a good friend to walk a lady back to the door of her apartment."_

"_Okay, but you know it's completely unnecessary, right? Considering it's you and I. It's not like I'm going to think any less of you if you didn't walk me up to my apartment."_

"_I know you won't, because you know me well, but I will do it regardless of whether it's necessary or not." _

"_Why?" Natara asked inquisitively. She furrowed her eyebrows a bit, scrutinising Mal and his intentions._

"_I just want to. There's nothing wrong with wanting to walk you up, is there?" he asked, persisting._

"_No," she finally said. "It's just that you've never been so… so, so…"_

"_So… what?" he asked, genuinely curious to hear what she had to say._

"_So… charming," she concluded._

"_Charming, huh?" he echoed, a smile tugging at his lips._

"_Yes. Charming," she repeated._

"_Well, we can all improve, can't we? Being Prince Charming isn't so bad," he remarked, grinning._

_The mood having lightened among them, the tension slightly broken, she let out a snort, and allowed her face to break out into a smile. "Okay, Prince Charming. Can we go now, if you want to walk me up?"_

"_Yes, we can. Let's go."_

_And so they walked into the lobby, and took the elevator up to the 38__th__ floor of the building. All the while, they conversed about the events that transpired that day, and of the coming week. The usual banter was at hand, Mal telling Natara more ridiculous hobbies of Kai's, and Natara telling Mal about some of Amy's untold phobias. They laughed along the way, until they finally walked to the door of Natara's apartment._

"_Well, so you've walked me to my door," she said._

"_It was good catching up with you for a while there," he said, changing the subject. "We haven't spoken much since… well, you know, since the whole thing happened with Shawn."_

"_Yeah, I know," she looked at him. "It was really nice being able to do that even just for a short while."_

"_See? I told you walking you up here would be a worthwhile journey."_

"_Ha ha. Well, fine, it was," she admitted._

"_Hmm. You know I like it when you admit I'm right, don't you?"_

"_I do know that. I said it to make you happy."_

"_Oh, so you care about my feelings?"_

"_Of course I care. I've always cared. You know I care about you, Mal. We're partners."_

_He stopped there. "… Yes. Yes we are." _

"_Mal…" she began, and drifted off._

_Her body was against the door of her apartment, and he was right in front of her, almost leaning into her. His face was a few inches above hers, and their lips were very close. She stared at him with an intensity he didn't know before, and for the first time, she looked deep into those enchanting eyes of his, and got caught. For the first time, she felt her heart racing a little when she looked at Mal Fallon. For the first time, she felt that he was too close, a bit too close for comfort. He gazed back into her brilliant brown eyes and saw that for the first time, Natara Williams was probably as caught up in the moment as he was. _

_He took in the look of her beautifully framed face, her lovely eyes, and her pink lips. And then he took a step back, suddenly realising what he was doing with her._

"_Okay, um, I'll see you, okay, Natara?" Mal mumbled slightly, his hand in his hair, brushing it back._

_She looked at him, clearly slightly dumbfounded at the intense moment that just passed between them. That was something, alright. Something. But given that her rational thoughts would soon kick in to explain everything that just occurred, she decided it was nothing, and regained her stance._

"_Thanks, Mal, for the lift," Natara said. "I'll see you."_

_With that, she turned the key in the keyhole of her door, pushed it open, stepped inside and gave him a little wave before she closed it. _

_He returned the small wave of her hand with his own, and then he immediately spun on his heels and walked back to the elevator, slowly absorbing the depth of the moment between him and his partner. He had thought many thoughts of Natara, but suddenly one thought came crashing into his mind, for the first time – _

_Am I having feelings for her? Do I LIKE her?_

_And so, for the first time, Mal felt like collapsing somewhere and erasing all this from his memory. He couldn't handle this. No, no. This would not be happening to him._

…

Natara never knew what Mal thought that night, but she did recall that night to be the first time she ever thought Mal as someone worth considering as a partner… no, not just a partner in the police force or in the crime-solving team, but as a partner in real life – someone she could, maybe, possibly, consider as a boyfriend, or maybe, as someone more than just a friend.

And it was all because she actually _looked _at him, really looked at him, properly. And in a different perspective, not that of a profiler, but that of a girl – a woman. A female.

She recalled everything that happened that night, and she slapped herself for letting herself drift away, daydreaming about a past memory that could not be relived.

_Get a grip on yourself, _she thought.

Just then, her mobile phone rang. The ringtone sounded out loud, breaking the silence of her apartment, and she picked it up, looking at the caller ID.

It was District Chief Blaire.

"Good evening, Chief Blaire. How can I help you?"

"Natara, I hope this is a good time. We need to discuss a few things, as I need you back here at the FBI immediately."

"What? Immediately?"


	3. Effervescence

_Disclaimer: CoD does not belong to me, and neither do the main characters of which I'm writing about. One specific section of this story with the words "gift of confidence" is also not mine, because I was inspired by one awesome author, David Nicholls. I didn't put in the whole quote because it doesn't fit, but that was a big inspiration this time 'round._

_A/N: Well, it hasn't been that long since I last updated... less than a month! Hahaha. Don't expect this too often though. :D Anyway, thank YOU again, so much, for your awesome reviews. They never fail to make me smile. I'm really glad you guys are enjoying the story so far, and I hope you don't mind me dragging it out. More reviews are always appreciated and thanks for reading!_

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><p><strong>THREE<strong>

**Effervescence**

_And if__ it all goes crashing into the sea  
>If it's just you and me trying to find the light<br>Like ships in the night_

She felt like she was falling. How could this happen? How could everything be taken away from her just when she felt she was rebuilding her life once again? How many times would she have to keep fighting to sustain her mental security and peace of mind? Was this going to be a never-ending prospect for her because of the choices she made – to become an FBI agent, get involved with psychotic criminals, leaving the comfort of a normal (or at least as normal as she could get, being the daughter of Raj Mansingh) life? When was she going to feel okay again? Never? Would she ever find someone whom she could trust to be with anymore? Did she even really fully trust people these days? Was she going crazy, for real?

_She is always trying to get to me, isn't she – well, she can keep trying in the meantime, but I will lock her behind bars and she will not have the last word… I will. She will never get to me._

_Mal._

_I need to tell Mal._

_I have to go back to Washington. _

Somewhere, somehow, this black hole in her life seemed gigantic, almost enormous. If not for the fact that she was so occupied with figuring out the minds of perhaps-innocent-or-guilty suspects who stepped their foot into the cold imprisonment of the interrogation room, or finding the correlation between victims who endured physical torture and grotesque violence of a very disturbing level, she would perhaps be admitted into a mental hospital herself. She conceded the fact that although many would praise her intellect and observational skills, she was the one who doubted herself the most, particularly during the times when she was alone.

She realised long time ago that she needed someone in her life, who could not only understand her but know her beyond what she probably knew of herself, and for once was able to actually convince her that she was someone worthwhile, in a different perspective.

Because she could do all she could, steeling herself in front of reckless, cruel-minded citizens, and even in front of her bosses and work colleagues in the law enforcement – even in front of people she cared for and loved, but when she had no one around her, the confidence that embodied her seemed to shatter like a thousand pieces.

It was as though her personal life was actually in such a huge mess that she did not know how to repair everything that had been damaged. In fact, this was the reality of her life – the side that no one saw.

She knew that if there could be someone who gave her the confidence in such a way that it would not be her own, but the confidence of _someone else's_… and that confidence would in fact sustain her, change the way she saw herself… then he would, really, be the one for her.

Her past relationships had done nothing of that sort – Shawn Mallory was amazing for quite some time, but she realised at the end of the day that he loved her more than she loved him. And that realisation shocked her so much that she knew she could never go back as close as she was with him before. Oscar Santos was amazing, too. But she had barely begun with him. She actually didn't even know why she was drawn to him in the first place – not fully, anyway. And again, he was far more taken with her before any romantic thought of him even crossed her mind.

If there could ever be a situation whereby she would love a man first, even for this one quality, before he loved her; she was sure that she would have finally found him.

She picked up her phone after staring straight into space for a good fifteen minutes, thinking more than necessary, as usual.

She was about to bolt out the door and drive direct to the precinct when the headache from last night's aftermath came pounding. She held the door, grinded her teeth and turned back inside, slamming the front door of her apartment shut.

Walking slowly into the kitchen while pressing her fingers against her temple, she opened her medicine cabinet and looked for aspirin. She was never one to resort to medication with the exception of dire circumstances, but this was a dire circumstance to her. She wanted to talk to Mal and tell him what Chief Blaire had told her. And she had to leave tomorrow – her flight was at 7PM sharp. It gave her just enough time to recover, pack as much as she could, inform the SFPD, and then leave. It didn't give her enough time to talk to Mal properly.

And Oscar – _oh gosh. Oscar. I have to talk to him too. Especially after what happened last night. I need to get this done. _

The pain of the headache seared through her head and she realised she would have to lie down and rest, even for a short while. It wasn't too late – it was just about 8:34PM. She could sleep for an hour and still head down to the station. She was sure Mal would still be there.

And so she lay her head down on the couch in her living room, and let herself curl up with the small pillows. Within minutes, she fell asleep, tired and still exhausted from everything that had been happening within the week.

…

_There was a cold, dark cellar. Blackness was everywhere, the pensive, eerie feel of it all. There was no way of escape. Just dirt and four walls. Inside it sat a girl, with fiery reddish-orange hair. It was tied back in a ponytail, and she had fair skin. The girl looked like she was innocent and lost, almost as though she was a victim… but when she looked up, her eyes were empty, emotionless. She had no capacity for conscience. There was no hint of beauty at all._

_Her mouth curved up into an evil smirk. Shockingly, the voice that came out of her mouth was not that of a young girl's, but that of an old woman._

"_You will give in… sooner or later."_

_The image dissolved and, as though a slideshow was playing, another image crafted itself._

_A boy was dancing around the living room, impatient. It was Christmas morning. A small Christmas tree with minimal decorations sat at the corner of the room. Below it was just one present, wrapped in red and green, with little Christmas trees all over its design. The box was rectangular, and there was no name on it, but the boy seemed to know that it was for him. A man sat on the couch beside the tree, and his face was somehow obscured, but clearly he was the father of this boy. He reached down to the tree and handed the present to his elated little boy. The boy hugged the man, and then sat down on the floor and began unwrapping the package – eagerly tearing paper away until he saw that it was what he wanted – a police car._

_He laughed happily and took the toy out._

"_Thank you, Dad!"_

_Again this image faded into the distance and the third image surfaced._

_There was a giant, surreal field. Green grass and tall pine trees were in the distance, and stretched as far as you could see. Beautiful blue skies were ahead, and the weather was warm and sunny. Then, bursting out of the trees came a teenage girl, mounted on a majestic white horse. The teen had brown, straight hair and it was blowing along with the wind under her polo cap. She wore an equestrian outfit, complete with dark-coloured boots, peanut-coloured tights, crisp white shirt and black blazer. She skilfully rode her horse and it galloped with speed across the wide field. They kept going and the horse seemed to go faster as they reached a cliff. The girl riding her horse tried pulling on the reins, prompting it to stop, but for some odd reason, there were no reins. She was powerless to stop it, and before she knew it, her horse leapt straight down into the abyss below._

_As she streaked through the air, she attempted to scream._

"_H-h-help me! HELP ME!"_

_The sound was deafening, and the girl kept falling and falling and falling, in what seemed like forever…_

_Until she was caught in a man's arms. _

_Except when she fell into this brave, muscular man's arms, the girl wasn't a teenage girl anymore; she was a woman. She was a grown lady. Her brown eyes fluttered open and she tried to see the face of her prince, her hero – but the bright sun blocked her vision and she could not see who this man was._

_His arms were strong and protective; he cradled her in his arms and gently let her down so she could stand, but still she could not see who he was. He had a respectably impressive build, not bulky but manly, and she noticed that he had somewhat a bit of stubble on his chin. He wore a suit, a dark greyish jacket and matching trousers. Inside it he wore a blue shirt with a black tie. _

_Suddenly she realised she had been speechless and not thanked him for saving her at all._

"_Thank you… Thank you for saving me."_

_The man chuckled and smiled. "You're most welcome. Anytime," he said easily. "Are you okay?"_

"_Yeah, I think so. But I feel like I just got hit on the head. I can't seem to see anything properly. I think I need water… I…" _

"_Hey, easy, easy…" the man reached out to grab hold of the lady's arm to steady her. "Don't worry. Here, let's sit down and wait, okay? The ambulance is coming to take you to the hospital."_

"_No! No, I don't want to go to the hospital! I just… I can't do this anymore."_

"_Do what?" _

"_I don't even know what I'm doing. I mean, you're a stranger, and I'm just talking like craz-"_

"_I'm not a stranger, and you're not talking like crazy. Just tell me. You know you can tell me anything."_

"_You're not?"_

"_No, I'm not."_

"_Okay. I think I've lost all my capacity to run ahead and fight. I feel I can't take much more."_

_The man was silent and waited for the woman to continue speaking, but she didn't. She just buried her face in her hands._

"_Is that all?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Well, here's what I have to say – you can do it. You're the strongest woman I know, honestly. Come to think of it, I don't know a lot of what you're facing deep down because you don't tell me, but if I can pull through, so can you."_

_She turned to look at him, and still she could not see his face. He seemed so familiar, so memorable… and she felt so comfortable around him. _

"_You have no idea how many times I feel incapable."_

"_You? Feel incapable? You mean you're not confident?"_

"_No. Not at all sometimes."_

_The man stopped to think before he continued, then he said, "Well, if it's confidence you need, then if anything, I would give you the gift of confidence."_

"_How? Why?" _

"_Because, you gave me the confidence to carry on and believe for the best."_

_Again it struck her and she turned to look, but in a flash he was gone, and everything faded to black._

…

Natara stirred in her position on the couch and slowly sat up, and realisation dawned upon her that she had fallen asleep for a long time – longer than she had planned.

She sat up straight on the couch and looked at her mobile phone for the time – 3:09AM. No, this was not good. She had slept for almost seven hours, and although the throbbing in her head was now gone, she still felt like she had wasted too much precious time.

She quickly went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. After washing her face, she went to the small kitchen in her apartment and poured herself a large glass of water. She swallowed, then drank two more glasses before she felt fully awake. Remembering her need to talk to Mal about the urgent news, she took out her mobile phone and messaged him.

After two minutes, she received a reply from him.

**Mal: **_**What's up? Is everything okay? Can talk now.**_

Natara contemplated calling him and telling him over the phone, but she knew she could not explain everything to Mal properly over a telephone connection. She had to tell him everything in person. She hit reply.

**Natara: **_**Are you still at the station?**_

The moment she saw the word 'yes', she took her keys, locked her apartment and drove down to the station. She never liked driving out so late. Who did? But in about 16 hours, she was supposed to leave San Francisco. And she needed Mal's help before she left. Because if she didn't use the remaining time she had left in this city with wisdom, she could possibly never stop the cruelty from continuing. And worst of all, she may never see Mal again.

And, as though there was a jolt of electricity that went through her body, the truth was there, staring at her straight in the face – that possibility scared her more than anything else.


	4. Trapped

_A/N: Wrote this in a matter of four hours after realising I need to update, and after thinking deeply about what should happen next. I hope this gets you guys excited. :) Also, I acknowledge all of you who have given me reviews that truly touch me and which I so greatly appreciate. Seriously, thank you so much for your kind words - it means A LOT. Thanks again and enjoy reading._

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><p><strong>FOUR<strong>

**Trapped**

_Who I am from the start, take me home to my heart  
>Let me go and I will run, I will not be silent<em>

Giddy from the dream that still haunted him, he stood and began pacing around the small office where he was completing his report on this last case. She was coming to talk to him now. Why? What in the world was so urgent? Did it really have to be now, when he was battling a thousand thoughts of her that he shouldn't be having? He really needed his head to be screwed on firmly right now, because he was aware of the fact that he should, in fact, be diving into more important and time-worthy matters in reality. Things such as sorting out his own life – he was halfway in clearing out all the boxes and clutter in his apartment, and he was pleased with the result so far; it was very much now a pleasant place to live and nearly ready for guests and visitors apart from those who knew of his past. He was certain there would be another case coming up, given that every time they closed one, another of great horror would appear in their laps. It was not far-fetched to imagine that maybe, she was coming to inform him of some case already. Maybe it was that. What else could it be? He didn't want to think about the fact that he was seeing her almost 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. He didn't want to think about the fact that the many times they had conducted investigations, whether undercover or not, countless number of people had assumed firsthand that they were a couple. He didn't want to think about the fact that he was admitting, slowly, to the truth that there was something, inside him, that actually, inevitably, confirmed that he was falling in love with her.

No, he couldn't waste time contemplating romance. This specific area in his life, in his own opinion, was doomed anyway. He was a detective, for goodness sake. Firstly, he did not have time to lavish a woman with long quality moments of just being together and deepening relationship ties. Secondly, having a relationship would mean that whoever he was with could very easily be caught up in his work of catching baddies and psychos – and that would mean the chance of his milady being put in danger; and he could not stand that. Even _if_, just _if_, the woman with him was also working in the same field, it would still equate to the possibility of losing her to the clutches of death; and even worse, the chances of her being killed would be even higher.

He surrendered to the conclusion that he simply could not be with anyone – at least, not officially. And it was, truly, for this reason and a few others that made him realise that even if he had true, genuine feelings for his partner, he could not be selfish with her.

He buried his head in his hands and closed his eyes in both frustration and hopelessness, that it would come to this – that even in that moment, when he would finally admit that he was falling, more and more, deeply, in love with his partner, she could, in fact, never be with him… at least, not when every time he thought of her, he could see all the reasons why they should not be together, blinding him and forcing his hand.

It was then that the very person he was trying so hard to erase out of his constant ponderings appeared at the door.

The sound of creaking made him look up from his messed-up position. His hair was ruffled, his tie was loose, and his eyes looked tired. But he didn't care how he looked – the moment he saw her standing there, panting and breathless, as though she had been running, with a glint in her eye that gave away her desperation; he stood from his chair and went to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Natara. Are you alright?"

She took a few more breaths, then straightened up and looked him in the eye.

"No. No, Mal, I am not alright, but I will get through this. _We_ will get through this."

He didn't understand. Of course he didn't. Why should he? She had barely explained a word of the catastrophe that was headed in their direction. Even she herself did not fully understand, except she knew that something had to be done. Something.

Mal looked at her with confused eyes. He sensed a big problem, but had no idea what it was.

"What are you talking about? Get through what?"

"Mal, I have to go back to Washington. I was asked to return."

He narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Why? For what? That still doesn't make sense. What does that have to do with us getting through?"

Natara bit her lower lip. Nothing would get past Mal. He was intuitive, every bit as much as she was. It was the reason why she admired him many a time, for being who he was – an excellent detective. And he would not just give in at the first call. He questioned; and he would fight against necessary forces if it was something he believed to be absurd.

She didn't want to scare him. She wasn't afraid, but she knew he would be afraid for her. She particularly did not want him to act impulsively, as she knew he was capable of. She wanted to tread carefully, to allow her to do what was necessary. It was the reason why she had to speak with him and get him to trust what she was doing. She needed his help – but not help in the form of aggression. It was help in the form of their mutual belief system, that no matter what they would be there for each other, but that the basis of it all would be the confidence in knowing that the actions they carried out was for the greater good – and the safety of each other.

She let out a sigh, then launched straight into it. There was no time – the clock was ticking and she needed to investigate with Amy's help while she could. Once going back to the FBI, there was no telling what she would be allowed to do, at least not with the confidence and security like she had with the friends she made here in the SFPD.

"I spoke to Chief Blaire last night. Apparently, just in the past week, crimes mirroring the work of Genevieve Collins' 'children' have been taking place in D.C. and surrounding states. I asked if this could be the work of a copycat, since the case of the Maskmaker and the rest of her psychotic children's acts have been so highly profiled in the media, and Chief Blaire acknowledged this, but because there is a possibility that it could be more than that, they want me to investigate."

Mal's face grew grave and he looked intently at her. "There's more to it, isn't there?"

Natara looked back into his eyes and swallowed hard. She was silent and didn't exactly want it to come down to this, but it had to.

"You think Genevieve Collins is drawing you away. Like how she drew Shawn away from us and begun tormenting him."

"Not exactly," Natara began. "Genevieve is smarter than that. She would not reuse the same formula with me. I'm not Shawn. And I most certainly did not receive any late-night calls from an anonymous person."

"So? What makes you so sure this is Genevieve? Like you said yourself, this could be a copycat's work."

"Because right after I finished speaking to Chief Blaire, I received a call from a blocked number – but I don't need a caller ID to know who I was speaking to."

Natara took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them, a tear slid out from her right eye. It wasn't because she was upset. It was because the memories still hurt, and because she refused to believe the impossible.

"It was Shawn's voice."

"That's impossible," Mal deadpanned.

"I know. I know it is. But I am a hundred and ten percent sure that I heard his voice."

"What did he say, if it was indeed him?"

"He asked me to come back to the FBI. He said that he needed me there, to help him. He didn't say help with what, but that he really needed my assistance."

"That's ridiculous." Mal's face was in absolute disbelief at the absurdity of it all. "Natara, I know you said you heard Shawn's voice, but that does not mean he is alive. For all you know, Genevieve could be toying with you…"

And he trailed off, understanding suddenly dawning on him.

"So that's how you're so sure this is Genevieve."

Natara returned Mal's gaze with an expression that indicated her pain, the madness of it all. Never before had Mal seen a look of such complexity on Natara's face, and he knew that she was right. She did not go by gut, but Natara knew people well. And she read Genevieve Collins better than anyone ever had. Endless nights of digging deep into the mind of the connoisseur so that they could unravel her dead and dastardly plan was more than enough for Natara to know that Genevieve had her eye on her, and she would always have her eye on her, until the day she died. It was part of her cruelty – enjoying the chase, the slow death, of her victims.

Shawn Mallory had given in and surrendered to the evil works of this woman, and Natara knew all too well that whenever she thought of him, her mind would immediately remember Genevieve Collins. Their relation was way too strong to ignore the truth that if, Shawn was ever brought up again in an investigation, it would have something to do with Genevieve.

The worst thing about it all was that Natara had to force herself so desperately to move on. She had tried so greatly and she had succeeded, finally, after months. Sure, normal people would probably have to attend counselling sessions with psychologists for treatment of grief and trauma, but she was not that normal woman walking on the street. For her, months of recuperating was a bad sign. She was a strong-willed woman, and she always refused to be weak. The need for time to move on from the man she had been in a long-term relationship with was for her, a sign of weakness.

And Natara did not like to think of herself as weak.

And that was why the thoughts that haunted her of her current lack of self-confidence and the need for a man strong enough to stand by her, made her feel like she could go on no longer. She felt as though the more she pushed, the worse things got. She hated it, she hated it so much that her countenance seemed to be falling apart, but she could not give in. She _would_ not give in.

Not after everything she had been through, with everyone in her life… particularly Mal.

She had never let him down, and she wasn't about to. If she was honest with herself, the person whose opinion mattered to her the most was him. And she knew that if she told him how she really felt about everything, he would offer to fight by her side – and she couldn't have that. This was her battle – this was her fight. To bring him into the equation could mean further disaster, and she would never want him to be hurt.

He was her friend.

Mal Fallon was a man she considered very deeply. She did not think that she had any romantic feelings for him, but she was aware that whenever he looked into her eyes, she sensed something. There was something more. And whenever he told her about girls from the pub texting him, she felt a pang of annoyance at him. Most of all, on the night they sat side by side on the rooftop of his apartment building, and they laughed and smiled and she rested her head on his shoulder, she had never felt so happy and secure and at peace.

She just didn't want to cross that line again – that line of friendship. She would never forget what happened when she decided to cross that line with Shawn, and she never wanted to ruin her relationships like that ever again. She learnt her lesson – and was not about to let history repeat itself in her life.

This was why she never would analyse whether Mal had feelings for her or whether she had feelings for him. All she knew was, she cared for Mal and she did not want to lose him, and that was enough for her to decide on what to do next.

She placed a hand on Mal's face as another tear slid out. She kept telling herself she was strong, but in front of him, right in that moment, she let her façade fade away.

Natara Williams gazed deeply into her partner's blue eyes and ached to memorise every single inch of his handsome face.

"I just need you to do one thing to help me – stay here. I will go back as I am told. You will see me again. I promise."


	5. Revelation

_A/N: Aaahh OMG I am so sorry for not updating this in like 5 months or so... yikes. My apologies. Well I'm continuing now, and I hope this update is worth the wait. Please leave me with a review at the bottom after reading - that would be so much appreciated. For those of you who are still following this, thank you so much for your patience. You guys are amazing. This story will come to a close soon._

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><p><strong>FIVE<strong>

**Revelation**

_I remember you said don't leave me here alone  
>But all that's dead and gone and past tonight<em>

Natara arrived back at the FBI the next evening. She stepped back into the cold, now foreign concrete lobby that was still significantly filled with officers speaking into wireless intercoms, analysts flying from agent to agent about details of a classified case, and phones ringing nearly all over the place. This was just the lobby. She hadn't even taken the elevator up to the fifth floor where she would greet Chief Blaire in his office. It seemed alien, this place. She hadn't been back since she last left for San Francisco, and then she was so different. She was feeling guilty for the injury of her then-sane ex-boyfriend Shawn Mallory, trying to fight off the lingering feelings of love she thought she still felt for him, and partially disliking the fact that she was sent to another state just because she barely even overrode protocol for the very first time. She disliked being thrown into unfamiliarity, and leaving the FBI office and DC was a taunting prospect, even for a seasoned profiler like herself.

Her mind flitted to the time when she met the man who seemed to constantly dominate her thoughts of late – Detective Mal Fallon, whom she had left behind. She felt a little vulnerable without him; a little unlike herself. She recalled the time when she shook hands with the handsome man who was to be her partner; and how she was highly sceptical and far from swept away with his mysterious outlook and allure of his gut-following behaviour. She was very tentative of him at the start, and careful not to do anything stupid. But she remembered that along the way of the Maskmaker case, she allowed herself to slip into the motions of friendship with this man, and that she easily called him a great friend by the closing of the case. Even at the end of their thrilling confrontation with Genevieve Collins, she remembered that she was already gazing into Mal's brilliant blue eyes as though she had known them in forever.

As she breezed quickly through the people in the building, she felt the gazes and murmurs of ex-colleagues around her, some of which gave her a quick smile or a look of an encouragement, though for what reason she did not know. Barely anyone spoke to her, and she was unsure if that was because they were all too scared of her sudden arrival back in the FBI headquarters, or whether they were all just unknown to her now because of her time away, or whether they were instructed not to speak to her at all. For all she knew, she was glad for the indifference shown to her and she preferred to not have to answer questions to do with her recent past in San Francisco with the SFPD and people she now called her close friends.

When she finally arrived at the elevator, she pressed the button number 5 and the glass elevator took her swiftly to the fifth floor where she stepped out towards Chief Blaire's office as she always had by memory in her time there. When she got there, she rapped on the dark wooden door with the sophistication she could muster, and proceeded to open the door. It swung open without creaking, and revealed a person she half expected to see, but did not want to believe that she would see.

Genevieve Collins.

The evil woman was sitting in Chief Blaire's seat in the office, wearing a pristine green suit that Natara believed was new; her almond-shaped glasses worn in place, and reddish hair perfectly combed. She was the very image of villainy - though only to Natara, and Natara reminded herself that despite how innocent she portrayed herself to look, she was cunning and much more so than the average killer.

Natara attempted to suppress the surprise she felt by seeing Genevieve so real and obvious in front of her eyes, but she knew she wouldn't be able to. Her eyes widened slightly and she pursed her lips while shaking her head and said,

"Genevieve."

The person in reference simply smiled in return and greeted Natara.

"Lovely to see you again, Miss Williams. Or should I say Special Agent Williams, as you prefer it?"

Natara ignored her question and walked forward toward Chief Blaire's big wooden table. Everything that looked to be his was still in place, and she wondered immediately what Genevieve had done to him. How in the world could a mastermind killer get past security as tight as the FBI's? _Oh, wait, she's a mastermind killer. That's how._

"Where is Chief Blaire?" Natara asked as firmly and seriously as possible.

Genevieve sniffed and let out a small chuckle. "Is that really the first question you would like to ask me? Are you that concerned with the welfare of your dear chief?"

"Alright. What are you doing here?" Natara returned, feeling more and more agitated by the second. She did not grow angry easily, but she was feeling it rise in her chest. She was having more than enough of Genevieve's constant taunts, and she was getting frustrated, so she told herself to calm down a million times in her head, while still standing in front of the desk.

"Why don't you have a seat first? You know you're going nowhere soon anyway," Genevieve offered, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk.

"You're not going to kill me. And you know I'm not afraid of you. So what do you want?" Natara jumped to the point quickly, wanting to avoid any red herrings in her quest to get rid of this woman. The longer she spoke to her, the worse it would get. The faster she got the answers she wanted, the better she would be poised to find a way to eliminate her.

"You know," Genevieve began. "I'm actually surprised that you came here without your dashing detective. Both of you go everywhere together. And you could've brought him. No one ever told you that you couldn't. Why did you leave him behind?"

Natara studied the cruel lady in front of her. "This doesn't have anything to do with Mal. It never has."

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, my darling," Genevieve smirked. "It has always been down to two of you."

Genevieve rose from her seat, indicating one of her thugs to step forward with an item in a carry bag. She stood and removed an item from the bag.

It was a jacket – a dark, almost black dinner jacket. Genevieve laid it out on the wooden desk and looked toward Natara, finding her reaction.

"Have a look, Miss Williams. You needn't be afraid."

Natara looked cautiously at the jacket and decided she would examine it. As with practice, she removed a pair of rubber gloves that were almost always in the pocket of her suit jacket, and wore them on both hands before touching the black coat.

She didn't find any front pockets, and she concluded it was definitely a jacket that was part of a tux with a matching pant. It actually looked familiar to her; as though she had straightened those lapels on the man wearing it before – but she didn't want to think about it. She didn't want it to be that possibility. She was realistic, but she was fighting reality for the first time in her life, and somehow it had come to that.

She dug into the inner pockets of the jacket instead, and realised that it was a tailored jacket. She finally found one item that was contained in the deep inside pocket of the coat, and it was a box, a small box that looked the type to contain a ring. It was dark blue velvet on the outside, and had round edges in its square shape. She steeled herself and opened it.

There was a ring, an engagement ring, she assumed; the diamond was beautifully and elegantly set in the middle, held up by a circular shaped ring of white gold. It was the most brilliant thing to behold; and after examining the ring up close, Natara set it down.

"Do you know whose jacket this is, Miss Williams?" Genevieve asked.

Natara looked up and into the eyes of the woman whom she longed to put behind bars. She knew the answer. And she couldn't believe it.

"It's Mal's," she said through gritted teeth, in finality of the situation.

Genevieve's lips broke out into a full smile, and she looked satisfied. "So you do know him well. Of course you would."

Natara was so mad at this point, she could barely stand it any moment longer. But she stayed silent.

"However, I'm fairly certain you didn't know he had bought a ring. Just yesterday after you left, in fact. Why, it was as though he had finally come to the realisation when you left him back in San Francisco and decided to come here on your own. You, on the other hand, Miss Williams, have yet to even realise what has already been known."

Genevieve cocked an evil eye at Natara. "Without your partner, you are unable to do what you have been assigned to do all this time, Miss Williams. You have grown dependent on him. And you refuse to acknowledge it. Your weakness, without you knowing, is your handsome detective."

"Genevieve," Natara cut in. "You can kidnap Mal and try to do something to him. The point you are trying to make is always resting with me. So if he is my weakness, why am I standing here without him?"

"Because of your stubbornness, Miss Williams. Your refusal to be definite about your relationship with your partner has resulted in your standing before me unable to be the accurate, level-headed agent."

Natara felt hit by a bus. The world was beginning to spin in front of her. She was fighting the urge to scream, mainly because she knew that if Mal was hurt, she would never show her face anywhere again. She wanted to run, because she knew that she didn't need to analyse whether she felt anything for Mal anymore – the fear creeping into her heart confirmed the buried emotions that she refused to admit that had long been there.

_No. NO. NO. NO!_

And yet, she stood from her chair, slammed her hands on the desk, and said the words she had long wanted to say to a woman this vile.

"My relationship with Detective Mal Fallon is purely professional and you trying to make me weak by insinuating there to be some form of attachment to my partner or my partner being in love with me is absolutely laughable. How would I know that you're not trying to trick me? There is nothing which proves that Mal bought a ring yesterday while I was gone. And why would he? Even if he loves me, I know him well enough not to do something this dumb. He knows I'm meeting you here, Genevieve. The last thing that would happen is him running to the jewellery store to buy an engagement ring for me. How stupid do you think we are? We may be separated physically, but we are still partners, and he will always be here for me as I will for him. A person like _you _will never understand a unity of this sort, one that does not include a twisted form of revenge and hate. We will get you behind bars, Genevieve, and you can count on it."

The cruel woman held the glare of the special agent across from her, and snapped her fingers.

An image from the computer on the desk flickered on, and it showed the security camera views of both the FBI building they were in, and the San Francisco Police Department.

"Here's a preview of what will happen next. And for the record, I'm offended, Special Agent Williams. You suggesting that I would lie about your partner getting a ring for you is an insult. He bought it upon my request in exchange that you return safely to San Francisco. He seemed confident that you returned his affection. Apparently he is mistaken."

She signalled to a Russian man, thin and tall, holding a machete and a pistol in a holster on his belt. Behind him were three more men – big, bulky thugs.

And just like that, though Natara burst out in attempt to pull the trigger on Genevieve, she was immersed in darkness within seconds.


End file.
